


Springtime on Pandora

by TrashCandy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Horror, Necrophilia, Obsession, Regret, Revenge, Romance, exploitation fiction, gothic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20886503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashCandy/pseuds/TrashCandy
Summary: Scarlett's mind is heavy, her heart in flames. Nisha. Scarlett aches to love and curse her, but the one thing she could never do is leave her.





	1. Nisha

“Tonight I can write the saddest lines  
I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me too.”

— Pablo Neruda

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Jack and Nisha: the thought alone is enough to make Scarlett vomit.

She paces the train carriage, Greed in hand. Her fingernail picks at the trigger guard. It's not fair. She's always given Nisha what she needed. A loyal friend, a shoulder to lean on, and, when she deserved it, someone who would call her out on her bullshit. For fuck's sake, Scarlett even killed her abusive cunt of a mother. But Nisha wasn't grateful back then, and she isn't grateful now. Surely Scarlett isn't out of line for expecting a little gratitude for all those years of friendship.

No, not just friendship. Years of devotion. She practically worshiped the ground Nisha walked. Nisha, her truest friend. Her partner in crime. Scarlett lost track long ago of how many planets they'd set out on together, always seeking their next thrill and their next kill.

She remembers like it was yesterday, the point where she knew there was no turning back. Where she knew she would never love anybody the way she loved Nisha. A hot, humid night on the city streets of Ralinar. She can feel the hard bite against her ribcage as Doyle bludgeons her with a canvas bag holding a handful of .44 cartridges. Her shackles wrapped around the pipe behind her, the cuffs digging into her wrists. Her head cracking back against the steel. The flick of the butterfly knife, the tip of the blade digging into her cheek as he threatened to make that smile on her face permanent.

Her smile turned into laughter as two gunshots rang out from above. His eyes filled with panic. The color drained from his face as he looked towards the thump at the foot of the basement stairs and saw his partner's dead body. The deliberate thud of heavy boots followed. Nisha always knew how to make a dramatic entrance.

Amber eyes lingered on Doyle as he backed away. Then she looked over at Scarlett, shackled, bloodied, beaten. With a snap of her arm, Nisha shot out Doyle's right knee. He went down with a shriek, falling back against the wall. Nisha crossed the room in long strides, holding her whip by the thong, whirling the handle. She swung it down in a fierce arc. The polykryten knot cracked on top of Doyle's head. His skin split. Blood rushed in rivulets down his face. Scarlett watched spellbound as Nisha bludgeoned him again and again. The handle punched into his ribs, cracked on top of his skull, crushed into his jaw. Blood sprayed the walls and spattered over Nisha's coat as she bashed his face in, pulverized his nose, shattered his teeth.

Eventually, his ragged breathing stopped. Her chest heaving, her face twisted in rage and misted with sweat and blood, Nisha looked over at Scarlett. Scarlett had never seen her more terrifying, more beautiful.

They locked gazes for a few endless seconds. Then Nisha was on her, kissing her so fiercely Scarlett thought she might swallow her tongue. Scarlett surrendered herself, melting into Nisha's hands firm and flat on her cheeks. Nisha left her chained as she explored Scarlett's body with her mouth. Scarlett didn't ask Nisha to uncuff her, not even when Nisha forced her to sit on the ground, stood astride her, and ordered Scarlett to pull her pants down with just her teeth. Scarlett belonged fully to her, and Nisha knew it.

Scarlett thinks about that night a lot. She thinks about the rage that clicked into Nisha's eyes when she saw her chained. How Nisha's sadistic laughter rang through the room like bloody beautiful music as she brought the rounded end of her whip handle crushing down onto Doyle's skull. The echo of adrenaline courses through her veins, just as it did when she cheered Nisha on, as she watched the man who was torturing her reduced to a blubbering, bloody pulp. She feels the lust in Nisha's tongue as they kissed, and how it spread into her mouth and over her body.

But that was long ago. Another planet, another lifetime. Before another one of their fights. Before Nisha left for that Elpis job. Before she met Jack.

She always figured she'd be fine with it if Nisha went astray. Whatever Nisha thinks is best for herself, that's what she thought. But this... _this_. Scarlett had stomached a few of Nisha's flings. She'd even chased a few tails in the hopes that it'd rub Nisha in just the wrong way, but that woman never seemed phased by her proclivities. Jack, though... Jack was too far. Smarmy, self-absorbed bastard. A man with an ego as big as his must be compensating for something. He's pushing 40 and “divorced” – oh, Scarlett had _serious_ doubts about that story – and he probably can't get it up. All those years by her side, and Nisha never gave her a second thought.

Now, her involvement with Jack was starting to become... _problematic_. And Scarlett is done waiting.

The door of the train carriage slides open behind her. Scarlett stops in her tracks. She keeps her gaze set forward, but she can picture Nisha down to the last detail. The slight tilt to her head, her eyebrows furrowed down in the middle, a frown tugging at the corner of her lips. Her right hand resting lazily on the grip of her trusted revolver, Law. “Seriously, Red? A train robbery? Even for you, this is cliché.”

“Nisha.” Scarlett takes in a deep breath, then blows it out through her mouth. “I'm so glad you came.”

Nisha takes a couple steps closer. “C'mon. I'm sure we've both got better things to do than this. So why don't you just untie the conductor, and we can get this show on the road?”

Scarlett smirks to herself. Any other time, she would have relished the horror in the conductor's eyes after shooting out the engineer's brains. But today, she just couldn't allow herself the indulgence. Not with so much on her mind. Still, no one could say she wasn't merciful: she didn't let the conductor live in fear for very long.

A twinge of annoyance gnaws at the back of Scarlett's head. Did Nisha really think she'd leave anybody alive? No matter. There are more important things at stake. Scarlett clears her throat. “Thought we might have a chat first, if you have the time?”

Scarlett allows herself to look over her shoulder. Nisha, five paces away from her, stiffens in her stance, left hand hanging down by her thigh, right palm cupped on the handle of Law. She gives a quick upward nod and focuses on Greed. “Slide your gun over to me and you can talk all you want.”

Scarlett makes a slow show of holding Greed up by her side, her finger off the trigger. If Nisha came here to kill her, she would've done it by now. Scarlett bends down, lays the revolver on the wooden floor, and then slides it back. Nisha stops it under the toe of her boot. She stoops down to pick it up and swings open the cylinder. Four expended casings and two intact cartridges clatter to the floor and spread out across the car, fleeing the scene of a crime.

Nisha takes another couple slow steps forward, dramatic bootfalls thumping through the carriage. “What're ya doin' here, Red?”

Scarlett straightens up, facing forward. She's been weak before, and let Nisha take advantage of it. She let her tease her, string her along. Scarlett always took for granted that one day, Nisha might come to her senses and realize that everything she ever needed has been in front of her all along. That Scarlett has been the only constant in her life ever since she killed her mother. She can see the wicked gleam in Nisha's eyes during her moments of weakness. The fun she would have, tugging her heartstrings. Scarlett's jaw tenses. “You know why I'm here.”

Nisha steps closer, so close that Scarlett can feel the floor bowing beneath her foot and peg. Nisha's breath falls hot on the nape of her neck. “What's the matter, Red? Can't even look me in the eye?”

Her pulse thuds heavy in her neck. “You're making a mistake, Nisha,” Scarlett murmurs. Nisha will hang on to her every word.

A derisive snort comes from behind her. “How d'you figure that?”

Scarlett glances over her left shoulder, glaring at Nisha out of the corner of her good eye. “He doesn't love you, you know. You're an amusement to him. A curiosity. An attraction in a dime museum that he'll forget about as soon as he's used you up.” Scarlett gulps back the huskiness in her throat. She should know. Nisha has put her through every step of that dance.

The patronizing smile falls off of Nisha's face, leaving a cold snarl. “I'm starting to think the only way I'm going to get this through your head is by writing 'I don't love you' on a bullet and shooting you between the eyes.”

She spins on her heel, turning to face Nisha, forcing down the rising lump in her throat. “How can you say that to me? After—”

“Because we're done, Scarlett! Whatever it is you _think_ we had together, just let it go right now.” Cold amber eyes glowing with contempt, she leans in, their faces inches apart. “It's over between us. Accept it.”

Every word is ice stopping her heart, freezing her blood in her veins. “You don't mean that,” Scarlett whispers, her voice breaking. She's not sure if it's from the sting of Nisha's words, or the rising bitterness in her mouth. “You can't tell me those nights we made love mean nothing to you.”

“'Made love'?” Nisha scoffs as she takes a half-step back. “All you ever were to me was a fuck. A nice body to warm up the other side of my bed on a cold, lonely night.” Her fingertip traces Scarlett's jawline, light and deliberate. “A pretty face I could bury between my legs.”

Scarlett whimpers at Nisha's touch, her words crushing her lungs. Her eyes water, and her legs weaken. She crumples to her knees and grabs onto Nisha's duster with a white-knuckled fist. “You don't mean that. How can you say this to me after everything we've been through together?” She sniffles, staring up into Nisha's eyes, widened in a mixture of shock and disdain. “I love you, Nisha!”

Nisha shakes her head, looking down her nose at Scarlett. “I'm gonna need you to say the words, Scarlett. Say it so I know you understand.”

Scarlett bows her head, biting the inside of her cheek. She won't say it. She can't. It's not true. Nisha loves her. Nisha may not be able to bring herself to say it, but she doesn't need to. All those days chasing blood and money told her that. Her love ran rich and red on those nights they spent hunting bars for their next toy to break. It shone in the sultry glint in Nisha's eyes when she looked down at Scarlett, collared, shackled, shivering for the next lick of her whip. It washed over Scarlett's body in the shower when Nisha would caress the stinging welts on her back, the bruising around her neck, the imprints of the belt buckle on her ass. It rumbled in her throat when Nisha groaned Scarlett's name in surrender as she brought her crashing into that dark pit of ecstasy, the light of Elpis glowing in her eyes.

A wounded sob escapes Scarlett as she looks up at Nisha through a blurry eye. A tear tracks down her cheek. She doesn't bother to wipe it away.

“Pathetic.” Nisha tickles the bottom of Scarlett's chin, turning her face upward. Nisha's eyes are cold as they flick over Scarlett's face, as if something inside of them has died. “You see, Red? This is why it won't work between us.”

Scarlett's lip trembles as she tries to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper. Nisha straightens up and looks down her nose at Scarlett.

“Because you're on your knees, sobbing at my feet, and I feel nothing.”

What little breath was left in Scarlett's lungs rushes out, leaving her hollow. She sits back on her ankle, losing her grip on Nisha's duster. The empty pit at the bottom of her stomach opens up and swallows her whole. She breaks down, tears streaking down her cheek as she wails.

They've always been such contrasts together. Nisha. Her love always was a blessing and a curse. Her heart, so cold; her touch, so warm. Nisha. Her love, so strong, yet so wounded. Distant as she could be, they were never far from each other. Maybe she never could trust Scarlett, not after what her mother did to her. Maybe she was scared of being hurt again. Nisha. Her love is something Scarlett can't have.

Scarlett clutches at her chest, at the devastated husk of her heart. Her breath rattles in a dry sob. Her heart, in flames. Nisha, her love. How she wants to worship her, adore her, satisfy her. How she wants to damn her. To hear her tell her it was a mistake, that she didn't mean any of it. To see her hurting as she does now. To feel her arms around her, her hot lips on her neck. To feel those wiry fingers prying at her hand as she squeezes her throat.

The only thing that hurts more than Nisha's cold callousness is the realization that she didn't leave Scarlett a choice. She shouldn't have to do this. But she's seen it play out before, with Nisha's mother. She won't let Jack use and abuse Nisha like that. She loves her too much to see her destroy herself.

She stares down at Nisha's boots as she turns around and walk away, the tails of her duster swaying with each step. Scarlett takes a breath to steady her nerves. Her stomach churns at the thought, hot anger rising in her throat. What choice does she have? She reaches for her hip, to her personal teleporter. “I'm sorry, Nisha.”

She looks up in time to see Nisha start to look back. “Say again?”

Her stomach lurches, and the world flashes red around Scarlett. She stands in front of Nisha. Nisha's pupils dilate as she looks down at the dagger buried in her chest.

“I fucking _love_ you, Nisha,” Scarlett hisses, her knuckles white around the hilt.

The color starts to fade from Nisha's cheeks as she looks back up at Scarlett, her wide amber eyes losing their focus. Scarlett lets go of the dagger. The corners of Nisha's mouth twitch upward as the off-white of her vest stains with deep crimson.

Nisha lets out a weak chuckle. She paws at Scarlett's epaulette with a weak hand. Scarlett steps to the side, and Nisha falls forward, landing on her right shoulder. Her hat falls off her head, coming to rest upside down beside her.

Scarlett presses the toe of her boot to Nisha's left shoulder and nudges her onto her back. Her eyes are glassy, roaming the ceiling of the train car, before they find Scarlett's gaze. Her chest rises and falls, the movement shallow, slow, and uneven.

A dark claw seizes the back of Scarlett's mind as she watches the life drain out of Nisha's eyes. The love of her life, choking on her own blood, a knife lodged in her heart. The woman who brought electricity into her life. Scarlett retches. Her chest rises and falls with deep, trembling breaths, and her good limbs tingle with restless energy. She presses her fist to her quivering bottom lip as the life leeches from Nisha's eyes, coagulating in the crimson pool spreading out around her, seeping around Scarlett's boot. Reaching for her. Scarlett's breath hitches in her throat. “...no.”

Scarlett collapses to her knees.

She blinks back the tears welling at the corner of her eye. She won't cry anymore. She promised herself she wouldn't, if it came to this. She's cried more than enough over Nisha already. She never wanted it to come to this, but how much longer could she have watched Nisha destroy herself? How much longer could she stand by and watch her turn her back on the best thing that ever happened to her?

Scarlett gasps as Nisha's bottom lip quivers, her half-lidded eyes holding a lazy focus on Scarlett. She leans down, until the gentle waft of Nisha's warm breath caresses the shell of her ear. She shuts her eyes, straining to hear Nisha's faint whisper.

“Didn't think you had it in you...”

A weak exhale, what might have been a chuckle, puffs against Scarlett's cheek. She straightens up and looks down at Nisha's vacant amber eyes, her hand pressed flat to her chest, around the hilt of the dagger. Her fingers tremble as they run warm with Nisha's blood. Nisha's right arm is bent at the elbow, her limp hand resting by her head. Scarlett takes her hand in her own, relishing its warmth. She raises it to her face, brushing the back of Nisha's hand against her own right cheek. Her skin is smooth, soft. The small ridges of her knuckles caress the slope of her jaw, leaving on her cheek warm streaks of blood.

Nisha. God damn stubborn bitch. How long had Scarlett stood by her side? How much blood did she shed for this woman? How much blood had she spilled? She would have moved the planets and the stars for her, if only she would have asked.

Scarlett moves Nisha's hand to her left cheek, cupping it in her palm. Nisha's fingertips rest against her cheekbone, a delicate touch. Scarlett leans into her hand, so warm, so curiously familiar. She leans forward, looking straight down into Nisha's golden eyes. They dance in the unsteady flicker of the train car's overhead lights.

Nisha's thumb rests at the corner of Scarlett's mouth. She turns her head to suck on it.

Her teeth snag at the knuckle, the hard bunching of bone and ligament. She slides her tongue across the tip of Nisha's thumb. Her skin doesn't have much flavor, but it leaves her slightly thirsty. Her lips smack as she slides her thumb out of her mouth.

Scarlett lowers herself to the ground, lying on her side, her body pressed against Nisha's. She lays Nisha's hand over her stomach, then rests her palm flat against Nisha's chest, the inside of her thumb resting against the hilt of the dagger. Nisha's gaze is fixed past the ceiling. Her mouth is cracked open, exposing a tiny glint of white teeth behind them. Scarlett studies their bowline, the tiny ridges in her lips. Those lips that crashed against hers so many nights before, so full of passion, so full of desperate longing, so full of _love _and _need_. Those lips that brought Scarlett crashing into waves of ecstasy. Those lips that spilled out her name like a sacred truth during those nights of reverent pleasure. Those lips that will stay silent forevermore.

Scarlett cups Nisha's cheek in her palm. She leans in and kisses Nisha's mouth. Still warm. She sucks on her bottom lip, sinking her teeth into it, tugging it. If she closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing, she can bring herself back to a cold autumn night in Hollow Point. Nisha laid on top of her, ravenous eyes settled on Scarlett's lips. Scarlett ran her fingers through Nisha's hair, asking her to never leave. Nisha chuckled and whispered back, her breath hot in Scarlett's ear.

_If we go down, we'll go together_.

Scarlett comes up for air and hovers her face inches above Nisha's. A lump lodges itself in her throat when Nisha's eyes stare up straight through her. Just an illusion.

She lets out a defeated sigh as she brushes her fingertips over Nisha's temple. She straightens out her hair. She reaches out and brushes her fingertips over the leather brim of her hat. Where did it all go wrong? She loved her. _Fuck_, she loved her. More than Jack ever could. More than anyone ever could. If only Nisha hadn't been too fucking stubborn to realize it. All Scarlett ever wanted was to be with her, live with her, love her, suffer beside her every day. But she had to go and fall for him, someone who never could have deserved someone as perfect as Nisha.

It was mercy. Better Nisha die at her hand than live to realize the mistake she made.

But oh, how peaceful she looks. How relaxed. How blissful.

Scarlett leans down and captures Nisha's lips in another slow kiss.


	2. Ashes to Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: this chapter contains non-graphic depictions of necrophilia

“Good evening, I'm Hunter Hellquist. We are now twenty-four hours into the investigation of the murder of the Sheriff of Lynchwood. Handsome Jack is increasing the reward to one million dollars, for information leading to the apprehension of the suspect or suspects involved in this heinous crime...”

Nisha's file photo, displayed in the top left of the screen, unsettles Scarlett as much as it allures. A soft white light illuminates her from below, bringing out the golden flecks in her amber eyes, drawing a starker contrast to her umber eyeshadow. Light pink lips are slightly parted, their bowline accentuated from the low angle of the camera. A lock of chestnut hair curls by her left cheek, obscuring her eye in shadow. Her tapered eyebrows furrow down in the middle, giving her a discerning glare.

Her hat is tilted back, the white underside of the brim exposed, washed out by the light. A halo around her head. Scarlett stifles a chuckle at the thought of it. Nisha may be the woman of her dreams... but an angel?

Her gaze is drawn back to those orange eyes, piercing into her, glowing with sinister intrigue. With... accusation.

“That's 23 even.”

Scarlett blinks and tears her eyes from the TV on the cashier's counter. “Sorry?”

“It's 23 even,” the shopkeeper says. His lips curl downward behind his goatee as he glances over at the TV. “Ah, yeah. Damn shame about her. She was good for that crapsack town. If she'd taken over sooner I might not have had to come all the way out here.”

Scarlett gives a half-hearted nod in reply as she lays a few bills on the counter. “She deserved better.” That much was the truth.

She stuffs her change in her pocket, scoops her handle of rum up with her hook, and gives the cashier a nod as he tells her to stay safe out there. The entry bell rings as she steps out into the night air of Hallowed Hollow, the streets bathed in the orange sodium glow of the streetlights, the sickly citrine glow of Elpis shining through the thin sheet of clouds. She takes a swig straight from the bottle before setting off down the sidewalk.

She casts a glance behind her, lingering on two men standing outside the corner bar, arguing with the bouncer. Nobody who saw her on that train is still alive, that much she's sure of. If somebody could have identified her, she would have been brought into Hyperion custody last night. If not executed on the spot. But she stayed up all night, and was rewarded with the miserable orange glow of the dawn. It was only then that she realized Nisha never told Jack about her in the first place.

Dreadful as that first sunrise was after doing the deed, it was also freeing. If she were the superstitious type, she'd be worrying it worked out _too_ perfectly. She stopped the train in an ECHO dead zone. A bug in the train's security corrupted the CCTV footage before it could be uploaded. The engineer and conductor were dead. By the time Hyperion showed up, Scarlett was long gone. And so was Nisha.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. That's what Mum always told her. Scarlett was prepared to lie low for a few hours before Hyperion finally sniffed her out. She hoped if she couldn't make Nisha see reason, that she at least might die in that train by Nisha's hand. She'd never imagined it would go this perfectly.

Scarlett glances around, taking a slow drink from her bottle as she lingers under a lamppost, the orange light buzzing above her. Too early to breathe a sigh of relief just yet – a day of evading Hyperion capture could just be luck, after all.

The streets are dead. As well as they should be, at 11 at night on a Tuesday. The two men arguing with the bouncer have given up, and set off down the street, away from Scarlett. The bouncer ducks back into the entrance. Down the other side of the road, a young couple makes their way along the crosswalk, their laughter echoing down the barren street.

She takes a few quick steps backward, then turns around and heads down a back alley. Being a pirate captain has its perks far beyond the obvious. She has eyes and ears all over Pandora. When the heat becomes a little too much to bear, she has access to all sorts of hideouts at every corner of the planet. The streets of Hallowed Hollow don't see much action. A quaint little shanty town, built at the base of a mountain. Not long ago, a contact had told her of an abandoned diner. The owners vacated six months ago, after certain _disagreements_ with a few of their regulars. Somehow, the power was never cut off.

She'd never imagined it would go _this_ perfectly.

The night air weighs on her neck, heavy and warm. She steps into the inky shadows, tracing her fingers along the rough brick of the back alley. She comes up to a pitted door and glances over her shoulder as she fishes for the key. Something lurks at the corner of her vision. She presses herself into the wall, holding her breath. Down the alley, a spiderantling burrows out of the dirt and forages through the spoils of an overturned trash can. Scarlett lets out a low, relieved breath, unlocks the door, and slips inside. Her peg leg echoes dully against the linoleum of the kitchen. She sniffs at the lingering scent of bleach. She reaches back and locks the door.

The steel handle chills her palm, and the metal door opens with a hiss. Clouds of frigid air condense, spilling to the floor in tiny clouds as she pulls open the walk-in freezer.

In the middle of the room, suspended from a harness of rope, hangs Nisha's corpse.

“Sorry I'm late, love.” Scarlett takes another pull from her bottle of rum, then sets it down on a wooden table set in the corner of the freezer. “Didn't mean to leave you hanging.”

A wry smirk pricks the corner of her mouth. Oh, Nisha would've _hated_ that one.

Scarlett steps up to her, standing on tiptoe, and kisses Nisha's cheek. It chills her lips and sends a pleasant shudder down her spine. She leans in, wrapping her right arm around Nisha's body, cradling her. She loses herself in the drone of the fans as she rests her cheek against Nisha's shoulder.

“They're talking about you all over the Hyperion networks,” Scarlett says, stepping back to look her in her filmy eyes. She tucks a strand of Nisha's chestnut hair back behind her ear, and adjusts her hat so it sits straight on her head. “But it seems like your boy-toy still hasn't clued onto me.”

She must have driven far enough. Took her nearly all day in her technical to get here from the Dust. Nisha was no worse for wear after her ride in the ice chest strapped in the truck bed. The skag-on-a-stick vendor in Lynchwood wouldn't come looking for it. And the skags will make sure if anyone comes looking for the vendor, there will be nothing left to find.

Scarlett mouth twists into a frown. “Wonder if that's because he just didn't give that much of a shit about you.”

He didn't. Of course he didn't. How could anybody love her the way Scarlett did?

“Unless...” She allows herself a gentle chuckle as she reaches up and caresses Nisha's cheek. “Oh, Nisha... it all makes sense, now, doesn't it? You didn't tell him about me because you still had feelings for me. Isn't that right? Wanted to keep me a secret, so he wouldn't know where to find you when you came crawling back to me.”

The soft smile on her face breaks as she focuses on the milky haze to Nisha's eyes. '_Had_ feelings'. Illusion shattered. She turns away and sits in the chair by the table, folding her good arm over her chest, shivering.

It didn't have to come to this. Scarlett always considered herself a patient woman. But everybody has their limit. Everybody reaches the point where they have to tell themselves: _enough_.

Scarlett sighs. Maybe Nisha's mother became too much of a part of her, too early. Maybe if she'd just killed that cunt earlier, Nisha might have been willing to open herself up to the possibility of getting hurt.

She takes a thoughtful drink as she looks up at Nisha. A grim grin crosses her face. Given their current state, she supposes it's an absurd thought.

“Guarded as ever, aren't you? Come, now, I think we're _well_ past the point of trying to hide our feelings, don't you?”

Maybe she'd grown bored of chasing Nisha, like she was some legendary pirate treasure, waiting for someone to stumble across her. Mum always told her she had too much of her father in her. She's spent her whole life with her eyes on the horizon. All her days have been spent on the hunt: whether that was for the knowledge of who her father was, or a crew to become a part of, a ship of her own, the lost Treasure of the Sands, or her father's head mounted on her wall... but Nisha, she had _found_ Nisha. That wasn't so much a hunt as it was a chase. The cat and mouse act, well, it was fun while it lasted, but she knew it would never be enough. Nisha wasn't just an X on a map. She was everything.

Scarlett lets out a contemptuous snort as she stares up at her altar of lies.

Maybe it's her own fault. Maybe she was too complacent. She had suffered so much, and for so long, all for her. But she'd endured, through the rejection, through the frustration. She held on through the times they were at each other's throats. She held on to all the good times, going into battle side by side, the late nights when they'd unwind, count their bounties, get drunk together. Oh, the good times were always worth it. Especially when Nisha would let her guard down and allow herself to show some fondness. But it was always so short-lived, always back to business, back to barely acknowledging her existence, let alone their friendship. But Scarlett was pathetic. Little more than a doormat to Nisha, inviting herself to be walked all over. She ached for those good times, ached for the caress of Nisha's fingers; the sentimental looks; the crack of her whip and the praise of what a _good girl _she was being; the nights falling asleep with Nisha's breath wafting over the nape of her neck. Always so accommodating, always willing to drop anything and everything when Nisha called.

Scarlett sighs. “Forgive me, love. Didn't mean to snap at you.” She stands up and closes the distance between them, laying her palm flat on Nisha's chest, over her knife wound. “But you know how it gets under my skin when you're so cold to me.”

Nisha never knew what she had. She always took Scarlett for granted. Was it really so wrong of Scarlett to take her like this?

She can still feel the pulse that thundered there when they lost themselves in each other. The swell with each breath, the rumble beneath every blissful moan. She raises her hook and brushes its tip along Nisha's jaw.

“Let's not fight tonight, Nish,” she whispers, smoothing Nisha's hair with her hand before resting it on her shoulder. “Let me just... show you how madly I've missed you.”

Scarlett stands on tiptoe and kisses Nisha's cold mouth. Closing her eyes, she can taste the kick of whiskey on her lips, the soothing cadence of her breath.

She always believed, deep in her heart, that they'd end up together, no matter how long it took. That she would unequivocally belong to Nisha, in whatever way Nisha wanted her: a fierce lover, a dependable accomplice, a servile devotee. She always believed one day Nisha would be hers, to have and to hold.

When she was young, her mother used to tell her stories about sirens – not the ones touched by ethereal Eridian energy, but their namesake. The captivating creatures who lived in the sea, whose songs lured lonely wayward wanderers to their doom. A cautionary tale of the call of the void. But Scarlett never thought the sirens monstrous. She felt sorry for them. They were cursed to torture themselves in those vast, empty oceans, by destroying the only ones brave or reckless enough to pursue them. On starry nights, in the wind rushing over the waves, Scarlett heard their lonesome song. In the salty air of the morning mist, Scarlett tasted their tears.

Gingerly, she guides Nisha's arm onto her back, sliding her own hand inside her duster and wrapping her arm around her. Her lips roam the marble slope of her neck. The rough leather of Nisha's duster brushes against her corset as their bodies press together. She'll have to let go at some point, but not right now. She can't let Nisha escape her again

She whiles away the night there, warding off the crushing emptiness, cradling Nisha in her warm embrace. A filthy monster. A miserable creature. A lowly, lonely animal. Taking her in a tender hand, losing herself in lips that would make her whole, hands that would steal her breath. But Nisha's cold moans and blissful sighs are nothing but the drone of the fans.

Scarlett buries her face in Nisha's duster and weeps. The brass of her sheriff's badge bites cold into her cheek. Feeling warm eyes on top of her head, she turns to look up at Nisha's face. She lets out a longing sigh, consumed by thoughts of nights she wished would last forever, and mornings she hoped would never come. She would give everything for one more night with Nisha. Blinking back the tears stinging her eyes, compelled by the black ocean of longing rising up her throat, she rises on her toes to capture Nisha's bottom lip in a gentle kiss.

It is only when she pulls away from Nisha's frigid touch that the cursed blood in her veins starts to freeze.


	3. For the Moon Never Beams…

Scarlett rounds the corner, and her heart lodges in her throat. She ducks behind the corner, pressing her back into the rough wooden wall of the gunsmith's shop. Her runaway heartbeat thundering in her chest, she leans over, peeking out into the street, squinting against the setting sun.

Four people stand out front – more inside, no doubt. The police chief – hard to forget that bushy brown beard – stands at the foot of the steps leading into the diner – _her _diner – talking to the soft-spoken pawnbroker who runs the shop next door. Leaning back out of sight, Scarlett lets out a slow breath. The pawnbroker doesn't know her, but she knows him. A punctual man, always leaving his shop at the same time every night. Busybody that he was, he never saw her lurking around the diner. She can't imagine he's the reason her hideout is swarming with the entire police force of this quiet haven.

She chances another peek around the corner, and a heavy weight drops in the pit of her stomach. A man in a midnight blue windbreaker wheels a gurney out of the front door, the metal joints rattling as he rolls it down the steps into the stone-paved street. A black plastic bag sits atop the gurney, ratchet straps holding down the body inside. Scarlett's knees go weak, and she leans her shoulder into the wall. Anger boils in her stomach. It wouldn't kill them to at least be careful with her. Particularly after all the time Scarlett spent taking care of her.

Her heartbeat pounds in her ears as two men slide the gurney into the white van parked down the road. She knew they wouldn't be able to stay in the Hollow forever, but she thought she'd have more time. Who could've found her? She'd been so careful. Always traveling by night, her hook hidden in her coat, long pants and a boot to mask her peg leg, a hood or scarf covering her recognizable hair. She walked a different path every night, looping around, doubling back, just to make sure nobody followed her. How could this happen? What did she overlook? Someone across the street, spying from a dark upstairs window? Maybe one of those chips she heard Hyperion implants in all their soldiers. Nisha was no soldier, and she damn well wouldn't have agreed to having a microchip implanted in her... but then again, Jack struck Scarlett as the jealous type. Maybe he didn't give Nisha a choice. But what was Scarlett supposed to do? Slice up her perfect skin? Butcher her beautiful body in search of a chip that might not even be there?

The chief slams the back doors of the coroner's van shut, and the engine roars to life. Even if she did make a mistake, even if it wasn't Hyperion who found her, they were the ones who put out the bounty. They were the ones who had everyone's eyes out for Nisha. Once Hyperion gets her back, it's only a matter of time until it all leads straight back to Scarlett.

As the van drives off down the road, taking Nisha away from her once again, Scarlett's jaw clenches with resolve. Let them come. Let them find her. If there is a Hell, Scarlett knows she's doomed to spend eternity there. But it could only ever pale in comparison to the Hell of her own making she's facing now: a lifetime without Nisha.

She ducks out of sight, leaning back against the wall, fighting the urge to break down in tears. Once Hyperion gets Nisha back... _if_ they get her back. Scarlett has come this far already. If Jack sends his troopers, maybe she'll have a few hours. If he sends his bots... she'll have until the sky ignites with the firing of the moonshot cannon. It'll have to be enough time. She's lost Nisha to Jack once before, and she will die before he takes her away again.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Scarlett checks Greed's cylinder, then Law's. She tucks Greed into the holster on the small of her back, and Law into the one on her right hip. All that remains of the daylight is a dim glow of steel blue at the horizon, fading into navy overhead. Helios, ever vigilant, hangs in the sky, occluding the straw-yellow glow of Elpis. Scarlett, hidden from sight among the flowering bushes atop a grassy knoll, watches the police station. It was past 7:00 when they loaded Nisha into that van. Surely if they'd identified her by now, Hyperion would have been alerted, and Hallowed Hollow would be overrun with loaders, raining down from the moonshot cannon. But Helios remains dormant. It's little comfort to Scarlett. That only means the coroner already has her on the slab. She shudders at the thought of those scalpels slicing into her perfect skin.

Every second wasted up here is more time for them to butcher her. Her technical is parked across town. Her personal teleportation device is fully charged. All she has to do is grab Nisha and hit a button. Preferably undetected, but she has her two insurance policies in her holsters if that doesn't go according to plan.

Under cover of darkness, she slips in through the back door, easing it shut behind her. She glances to her left, at the stainless steel door of the elevator, then moves to her right, towards the stairwell door. She opens it and ducks inside as the elevator chimes behind her. She holds her breath as she pulls the door closed, letting go of the knob as the elevator door on the other side of the wall groans open. Muffled footsteps carry down the hall, further into the building.

Scarlett peeks out the door frame of the basement landing, keeping her breaths slow and soft. The hall is dimly lit, the buzzing fluorescent lights reflecting dully off the scuffed linoleum floor. Keeping in a crouch, she stalks forward, her eye on the convex mirror at the end of the hall, showing the empty corridor around the corner to her right.

A dim light coming from the last door on the left draws her along. Her breath holds tight in her throat as she peeks inside. A steel table sits in the center of the room. On top of it lays a black body bag.

Scarlett straightens up and glides into the room, feeling as if she's floating above the tile floor. The bag is zipped closed. “Oh, Nisha,” Scarlett whispers, her hand brushing over the thick mylar, her finger and thumb pinching the zipper. “I'm here now. I won't let them lay their filthy hands on you.”

A voice echoes over footsteps coming from down the hall. Scarlett steps behind the open door, drawing Law from her holster, keeping her breathing low as the voice draws nearer.

“...Hayes said it was a strange scene.” A man's voice. Tired, clinical. “I think it's something about the seasons changing. Something gets into people's blood.”

“Where did they find him?” A second voice. A woman.

The man steps into the room, dressed in blue-gray scrubs with white latex gloves. He pauses for a moment as he looks at the bag on the table, then steps up next to it. “The old Earnshaw diner.”

The woman follows him in, dressed in teal scrubs with bright blue gloves. Blonde hair spills out from below her matching cap. She stands next to the man, their backs turned to Scarlett. “Thought they shut down a while back.”

He nods. “They did.”

Scarlett aims Law at the back of the man's head. She nudges the door closed with her boot. The latch clicks, and the man and woman whirl around, eyes wide with surprise. He slowly raises his hands to shoulder height. The woman freezes, her breaths quick and shallow.

“I'm not here to hurt anybody,” Scarlett whispers. “All I want is for you to give her back to me.”

The coroner and his assistant exchange a sideways glance, then look back at Scarlett. He shakes his head. “Give who back?”

Scarlett clenches her teeth. “Just open the bag.” They stare back at her, mouths hanging open, frozen to the spot. Scarlett levels Law directly at the woman's forehead. “Forgive my manners. Open it, please?”

The woman turns to face the table and grabs onto the zipper with a trembling hand. Scarlett holds her breath as the woman pulls the slider halfway down the length of the bag. All she wants is to see Nisha's beautiful face again, to lay her head on her chest, to feel her skin under her fingertips. The assistant peels back the flap.

Scarlett stares down into the bloodshot blue eyes of a young man.

She blinks. It doesn't make sense. Was he Hyperion? Sent out to find Nisha and take her away? Maybe he came down with a partner, and the partner saw dollar signs when they stumbled upon her in that freezer. She shakes her head, her eyes darting from the bruising around his neck to the four cold lockers built into the wall to her right. No, no, she's here. She has to be here. If she's not here, Hyperion already took her. If she's not here... she shakes her head. She won't let those insidious thoughts gouge at her brain. She _knows_ she's here. She can see it in the whites of the woman's eyes. The fear of what Scarlett will do to her when she finally finds Nisha.

She trains Law on the assistant and nods towards the lockers. “Open them.”

“Please,” she whispers, backing up towards the wall. “If you'd just tell us who you're looking for—”

“You know god damn well who I'm looking for!” She takes two quick steps towards the assistant, who backs up into the lockers, her hands trembling, her chin dipped to her chest. “Now open them!”

Scarlett grunts as an arm wraps around her from behind, a hand grabbing onto her wrist. She screams out and swings her hook behind her, struggling against his grip. The coroner screams as she brings her hook down into his left arm. He wrenches it free, and her hook slips off of his arm and down into her own shoulder. She yelps as he grabs onto Law with both hands. An errant shot fires into the ceiling. Scarlett twists her body, trying to wrench herself free. She swings her hook at him a few times. He dodges the first two swipes, but the third gouges into his thigh. His grip on the revolver weakens, and Scarlett steps forward, whirls around, and draws Law's bayonet across his throat.

The coroner falls to his knees, clutching at his neck, blood pouring out from the wound, staining the front of his scrubs. Scarlett stares into his eyes, wide and fading like stars at dawn. The woman screams as he sits back and pushes himself back towards the opposite wall. Scarlett turns around and trains Law on the woman's chest. She really hoped it wouldn't come to that. The whole station will have heard that shot. “Open the lockers. Now.”

Hands raised and shaking, she turns around, grabs the lever on the locker at the lower left and pulls it open. She reaches inside, pulling out the sliding table. An older man lies on it, his waxen skin nearly matching his gray hair.

Scarlett shakes her head and shoves the rolling slab back into the locker with a thrust of her hook. “The others.”

“Th-they're empty,” she stammers.

She's lying. She has to be. She's trying to keep her from Nisha. Trying to bide time until Hyperion comes to take her away. “Then fucking show me!”

She opens the locker above the first, pulling out the sliding table to reveal nothing but its matte steel surface. Scarlett waves her towards the two on the right with Law. She pulls those open as well. Both of them empty.

She steps over to them, dragging the tip of her hook against the table of the lower drawer, as if she might snag against Nisha's invisible form. Her hook shrieks and squeals against the metal of the slab. Empty, empty. She's too late. For the second time, Nisha has escaped her. After all her planning, every lucky break, looking over her shoulder after every thump in the night... she's gone.

A stifled breath escapes her lips. As tears start to well at the corner of her eye, she feels her mouth spreading in a delirious grin.

Scarlett laughs.

Law clatters on the metal table. Scarlett pitches forward onto it, the steel chilling her forehead. She pulls at her hair, the tip of her hook digging into the back of her neck, struggling to breathe as she cackles. After all she's done, even the envious universe conspires against her. Yes, jealousy. That must be it. A love like her love for Nisha was too good for this world, too strong for this world. Her chest aches, with laughter, with longing, with loneliness. Crushing, suffocating loneliness.

Scarlett's head jerks back as white hot electricity arcs from her back out over her limbs. She falls onto her side, muscles spasming, teeth clenching, fingernails digging into her palms. The room fades to black.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She awakes with a splitting pain in the back of her head, and an aching stiffness in her back. She groans, reaching blindly with her left arm for the bedframe. She blinks, finding no purchase, and looks down at the stump at the end of her arm. The caged fluorescent lamp in the ceiling buzzes, bathing the drab tan bricks in a low, irritating light. Pale moonlight shines through the barred window. She sits up and swings her legs over the edge of the cot. At least they let her keep her peg leg.

She rubs her hand over her eyes, trying to piece it all together. The cadaver van outside the diner. The gurney. The body bag. Nisha.

“How you feeling in there?”

Scarlett jolts upright and looks through the bars of her cell door. A man in a sandy brown uniform stands on the other side, adjusting the brim of his ranger hat. Scarlett clears her throat. “What am I doing here?”

The man's mouth twists into a frown behind his thick chestnut beard. Scarlett looks down at the nameplate above his left shirt pocket. Chief Hayes. “You're here 'cause you were lurking around the morgue. I'm hoping you could tell me what you were doing _there_.”

Scarlett blinks. She remembers now. The body bag. The man. Her chin drops to her chest. Nisha is gone. Long gone. She sighs. “I was looking for her.”

Hayes narrows his eyes and tilts his head back. “In the morgue?”

She looks up at Hayes, suspicion in her narrowed eyes. He's toying with her. Mocking her. “Yes. I had to get her back.”

Hayes heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Do you remember what you did down there, Scarlett?”

She takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and nods. “I didn't want to,” she breathes. She really didn't want to. The fear in the poor bastard's eyes. He didn't deserve it. He wasn't the one who took Nisha away. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't let anyone stand in her way. Not after everything she's done. “But I had to do it. I had to find her. I had to try.”

“Who were you looking for?”

Scarlett buries her face in her palm. “Does it matter anymore? She's gone. They got her.”

“Who got her?”

“Oh, don't play coy with me,” she spits. The nagging dread picks away at the back of her mind as she looks at the barren cell walls. “I know what's going on. The man on the table. Hyperion. You found her, or they found her. Either way, they're coming for me.”

“Hey.” Hayes waits until Scarlett looks up into his eyes. “If you know something about what Bill Reynolds was doing in that diner, it would really help us out if you told me.”

She lets out a weak chuckle. “And why would I help you out?”

Hayes heaves an exhausted sigh. “You killed a man down there, Scarlett. Miss Morrow told me what you told her and Callaway. Scarlett, you're sick. Tell us what you know about Reynolds and the diner. We can help you.”

Scarlett's fingernails dig into her palm. Help her, sure. Help her by putting her out of her misery. “I don't want help. I just want Nisha back!”

“Is that who you're looking for?”

She scoffs. “What have I been telling you this whole time?”

He keeps that same pitying stare fixed on her. She won't fall for his false hope. If anything, she pities him. Thinking Hyperion will just thank him for finding Nisha and be on their way.

“Just leave me alone,” Scarlett mumbles, leaning forward, burying her face in her palm, fighting down the bilious dread rising in her throat. She closes her eye, and her thoughts drift to Nisha. Of echoes of their past together. Of the ghosts of a future forever lost. She tries to remember their last kiss. The last kiss they had when Nisha was still drawing breath. The last kiss they had before...

“It's not too late to get help,” he says. She groans. His voice is so soft, so sincere. It would be so easy to believe him. “Maybe we can even find this Nisha you're looking for.”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “I wish I could still have hope for that.”

“Why can't you?”

Scarlett sniffles and pinches the bridge of her nose. Nisha's face flashes before her. Sweeping visions her lying on the floor of the train carriage as she was slipping away, that look of empty tranquility. She takes in a slow breath, nearly choking on her words. “Because I killed her.”

Gunfire rings out down the hall, a quick burst, maybe six seconds and a dozen shots. Scarlett jumps to her feet and rushes to the cell door, gripping tight to the bar. Hayes's eyes darken as he looks down the hall.

“I knew it,” she whispers, then lets out a soft chuckle. Hyperion. She knew she couldn't trust him. She knew they were coming for her. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. She reaches out for Hayes's shirt, but he deftly steps back. “You need to let me out of here.”

With his gaze laser-focused down the hall, Hayes draws his revolver. A single, deliberate gunshot echoes down the walls. With his gun raised, he starts stalking down towards the source of the gunshots.

Scarlett's panicked heart thunders against her ribcage, threatening to burst through her chest. “Don't leave me in here!” she hisses, pressing her face into the cold metal bars. “Do you have any idea what they're going to do to me when they find me?!”

Hayes presses forward, out of sight. Scarlett grits her teeth and bangs her forehead against the cell bars.

His voice rings out from down the hall. “Drop it! Put your hands in the air, slowly!”

Maybe they'll just kill her outright. She hopes so. It doesn't matter what they might do to her if they bring her into custody. Even dying in a cage is so much more preferable to living one more minute in this world without Nisha.

“Now, get down on your knees.”

No, death would be too easy. A person like Jack will want her brought back alive. A person like Jack won't take too kindly to somebody else stealing his property. He'll want to make her suffer. Maybe she'll end up in one of those eridium experimentation labs.

“What the—”

Hayes is cut off by a sickly gurgle. His revolver slides down the hall, in front of Scarlett's cell. She gasps and drops to her knees, sticking her arm out between the bars. She grunts and strains, lowering herself to the ground, stretching her fingers out as far as she can, but the grip of the revolver is mere inches out of her reach. She lets out a frustrated cry. Hayes's ragged gurgling draws closer, and out of the corner of her eye she sees his bloody hand slap against the green tile.

She lets out a strangled yelp as he crawls into view, pulling himself along with his right arm, his left hand clamped over his throat, covered in blood. Scarlett's eye widens as he drags himself forward, his trembling right hand reaching out for his revolver.

A thundercrack rings out through the hall. Blood sprays over Scarlett's face as Hayes's head thuds into the ground, an incendiary slug smoldering in the tile, an oozing hole above his right ear.


	4. Promise Me the End

Chest heaving, heart surging with adrenaline, Scarlett pulls her arm back into her cell and pushes herself back, away from the door. Slow, dramatic bootfalls cut through the air that hangs as still as a tomb. Her eyes settle on Hayes's outstretched arm and bleeding head – all that she can see of him from inside the brick walls of her cell. She watches as silence falls over the room, and his body is rolled over onto his back. A soft metallic jingle fills the air before the footsteps begin again.

Scarlett feels the blood rush out of her face as an armor-plated high-heeled boot steps into view. The hem of her duster bobs with each step. The tip of Scarlett's hook is tucked into her holster, the cuff thumping against her thigh. The gold star emblazoned on her vest shimmers in the blue glow of the night. Milky eyes stare at her from under the shade of a wide-brimmed purple hat.

Nisha flicks through the keys on the ring in her left hand, then sticks one into the cell door. The lock clicks, and she slides the door open, the metal rattling, then clanging as it hits the stop. Scarlett's heart thunders in her throat as Nisha strolls in, Greed in her right hand, in a relaxed grip. She points the barrel at Scarlett's chest, the gives it a lazy flick upward.

Her hand trembling, Scarlett gathers her foot and peg underneath herself and pushes herself up, bracing herself against the wall for stability. As she straightens up, she stares transfixed into Nisha's eyes, amber irises behind a veil of white, flickering over her face. It's not real. She can't be real. She's a dream. She's her obsession, her paranoia, manifest. Scarlett gets a hold of her erratic breath long enough to whisper, “Nisha...?”

Nisha slips the key ring around her wrist as she raises her left hand, extending her index finger. Scarlett lets out a gasp as it presses to her lips, so firm and so cold. How could an illusion have such a chilling touch?

She brushes the side of Greed's barrel against Scarlett's cheek, the warm metal a stark contrast to Nisha's cold skin. She lets out a rattling chuckle as Scarlett winces, turning her head away from the gun. Nisha holsters Scarlett's revolver. She tilts her head back. The moonlight pouring in through the window casts her ashen skin in an ethereal glow. One corner of her mouth curls up in a playful smirk.

Scarlett squirms as Nisha's body presses against her, pinning her against the wall. Nisha's finger trails down the slope of her neck. The gnawing terror at the back of Scarlett's head struggles against the growing longing deep within her. She licks her lips and squeaks, “How?”

Her teeth bared in a wolfish grin, Nisha pulls a dagger from her belt. She presses the tip against Scarlett's neck. A warm droplet beads down her skin. Scarlett marvels at her, at the face burned into her memory. Moonlight bounces off her cheekbones and gleams in her glassy eyes. Her teeth sink slowly into her bottom lip as she tilts her head to one side, arching a scarred eyebrow.

Even in undeath, she is captivating.

Her palm flat on Scarlett's chest, Nisha nods her head to the right. Scarlett looks that way, at the cot, then back at Nisha. Pulling away, Nisha nods.

Feeling milky eyes on her all the while, Scarlett steps over to the bed and lies on her back. She whimpers as Nisha walks over beside her. Her mouth runs dry as Nisha lifts her left leg and rests her boot on her neck. Scarlett grabs onto the toe of her boot, wheezing for breath against the firm pressure. Nisha waves the dagger in front of Scarlett's face, rolling the handle between her fingers. Scarlett tears her gaze from the tip of the blade and looks up at Nisha, grinning down at her. Nisha chuckles and slides the dagger into the sheath tucked in her boot.

Scarlett takes in a grateful breath as Nisha's boot leaves her throat. She shuts her eye, her limbs surging with adrenaline, the black, all-encompassing dread building in her chest. When she looks back up, Nisha's hands are delicately cradling her hook. Freshly polished, the metal gleams. Nisha admires its point before her gaze flickers down at Scarlett, her upper lip curled in contempt.

“Nisha...” Scarlett's voice rasps. She licks her lips, choking with tension. “Nisha, please. Don't do this.”

Nisha purses her lips, a thoughtful glint to her eye as she regards Scarlett. The mattress shifts under Scarlett's body as Nisha pushes herself onto the cot and kneels astride her.

Scarlett takes in fast, uneven breaths. The back of her head buzzes, her heart thundering in her chest. She rests her hand on the rough leather of Nisha's duster, feeling the firm muscle of her thigh underneath. Breathless, she stares up at her, drinking in her presence, so commanding, so stifling.

Nisha holds Scarlett's hook by the base, where the metal meets the cuff. Her lips part in a predatory grin.

Her other hand grabs the hook by the bend, and she rests its razor-sharp point between Scarlett's legs.

Scarlett takes in a quivering breath, her back arching, the muscles in her hips clenching as she tries to pull away from the tip of the hook. Nisha leans over, laying her forearm flat on Scarlett's chest. Scarlett gasps against the pressure. Nisha's laugh rattles in her throat, falling cool over Scarlett's neck.

“You made me do it,” Scarlett hisses, surprised at the huskiness to her voice. A tear wells at the corner of her eye. “I didn't want to. But you wouldn't listen! I couldn't let you run awa-- _hahhh..._”

Her back arches and her hips twitch as the insistent point of the hook presses firmer between her legs. She lets out a strangled whimper as Nisha clicks her tongue and shakes her head. Scarlett stares deep into her accusing eyes. _Liar_.

“I know,” Scarlett breathes. “I know, I know, but you don't understand. I had to.” Her lip quivers, and she swallows back a lump of dread rising in her throat. If she could only make her understand. If she could only make her see everything she means to her. “You have no idea what you are to me.”

Nisha tilts her head to the side, a curious glint in her eyes. She eases the tip of the hook off Scarlett, who heaves a sigh of relief. Nisha takes her arm off Scarlett's chest and rests her elbow on the cot. She cups Scarlett's cheek in her palm. Scarlett leans into it, comforted by the chill.

Scarlett gazes up at Nisha's faded amber eyes, flickering, dancing. Her hair hangs in dark curtains around her face. She slides her hand under Nisha's duster, over her hip and onto her waist. “I love you, Nisha. I am fully, _madly_ in love with you.”

Nisha blows a soft puff of air out of her nose. Her fingertips trail off of Scarlett's cheek. She straightens up and grabs Scarlett's hook in both hands, one on the base, the other on the bend, above the point. She turns it over in her hands, then her gaze locks onto Scarlett. She lowers the hook towards her.

The cold metal tip presses against her corset, just above her navel. Scarlett's chest swells with a gasp. Nisha raises an expectant eyebrow. Scarlett gulps. Why won't she just do it already?

Behind the white film, Nisha's eyes are set hard with purpose. Scarlett blinks back tears. She squirms under the point of the hook. Nisha stares down her nose at her, her eyes blank.

They could have had it so much better. If only Nisha weren't so stubborn, or... Scarlett sighs. It doesn't matter. Nisha made her choice. She made her own. She knows now why Nisha is waiting.

At least she'll get to die looking into the eyes of the woman she loves.

“I'm sorry, Nisha.”

The specter of a smirk sparks Nisha's face. She blows her a kiss, then thrusts the hook up into Scarlett's gut.

Scarlett strains against the handcuffs digging into her wrists. Nisha brings the knot of her whip's handle down on Doyle's nose with a wet crunch. Blood spatters over her duster. Doyle lets out a bellow, raising a shaking hand, begging for mercy. Poor bastard doesn't realize begging will only make Nisha drag it out longer. Nisha raises her boot, stomping his hand down onto the damp concrete floor. His fingers crunch. He howls. Scarlett's breath comes in deep heaves as she loses herself in her captor's agonized shrieks, the rich squelch of polykryten on flesh, Nisha's melodious cackling. Heat builds between Scarlett's legs, begging for release. Face streaked with blood, Nisha looks over at her, eyes burning with passion. Scarlett grins at her, licking her lips. Nisha flashes her a wicked smile. She whirls the handle of her whip in a quick circle, then swings it in a sweeping downward arc, shattering Doyle's teeth.

Scarlett takes in a wretched gasp as the hook pierces her. Shockwaves stab through her body. Pressure builds in her chest, each ragged breath like shards of glass tearing her apart from the inside. Her pulse hammers a few times hard in her neck before the pressure starts to die off. Her next breath burns deep at the bottom of her ribcage. She coughs up flecks of blood that spatter over Nisha's deranged grin.

She lies on the floor of the train car, sobbing into the lapel of Nisha's duster, her knuckles white around the grip of her bloodied dagger. Each ragged gasp she takes rattles in her hollow shell of a chest. Her head throbs with the pressure building at the backs of her eyes. A glint of light bounces off the cylinder of Law. The dagger clatters to the floor. _If we go down, we'll go together_. She grabs Law from Nisha's holster and presses the tip of the bayonet against the bottom of her own chin. She shuts her eyes and clenches her jaw. Anything to end this miserable emptiness. To escape this hell of her own making. The trigger clicks. A tear squeezes out of her eye. A goddamn misfire. Only fitting. It would've been too easy.

Nisha yanks the hook out of Scarlett's stomach. Its sharp tip drips a rich crimson. Scarlett stifles a cry with gritted teeth, warm blood spreading out from the wound, squeezing against the pits of her lungs with the pressure of an iron fist. The glow of Elpis in the window dims, then the soft blue ambience of the walls dissolves to gray. She lingers on Nisha's eyes, narrowed in a wicked glare.

The sun beats down on the deck of the Bacchanal, bathing Scarlett's skin in a warm kiss that spreads out from her stomach and stretches all the way out to her fingers. A soft wind rolls in from the west, bringing in the floral scent of a blooming spring. Nisha stands at the bow of the ship, the tails of her duster fluttering in the breeze. She looks over her left shoulder. A soft smile spreads over her rose lips as she catches Scarlett out of the corner of her eye. Relief washes over Scarlett as she walks towards her, hand outstretched. Nisha reaches out, amber eyes flickering with desire. Their fingertips brush together. The warmth fades from Nisha's eyes as the wind sweeps her away like grains of dust.

The blood runs cold in Scarlett's veins as she is washed over by a sense of calm. Her head is weightless on the pillow. She reaches out to stroke Nisha's pale cheek. Her arm collapses from the effort, her hand resting on Nisha's wrist. The room dims around her, welcoming her deeper into an ocean of infinite darkness. As she falls, she holds her focus as long as she can on Nisha's lips, set in a soft smile.

The world fades to black.

Nisha laughs.


	5. May Death Never Stop Us

“I believe that if I should die,  
And you were to walk near my grave,  
From the very depths of the earth  
I would hear your footsteps.”

\- Benito Pérez Galdós

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

With a rasp, Scarlett awakes. Her hair is matted to the pillow, the back of her neck sticky and ripe with sweat. Such a peculiar dream. In the dark, she reaches out towards her nightstand. Her hand comes to rest on cold brick.

She sits up. The glow of Elpis and the soft patter of rain drift in from the barred window. The cell door sits wide open. The blood stain on the front of her corset is already starting to brown. A hole is borne in the center, just above her navel. She brings her hand down to it, probing the edge with gentle pressure. It hurts less than she expected.

Her gaze lingers on her hand, studying the dark veins beneath her pallid skin.

A wry smirk spreads over her face. She swings her legs over the edge of the cot and pushes herself up. She steps out of the cell. Chief Hayes lies face down in the middle of the hall, at the end of a five-foot long trail of blood. She steps over him, through the first door to the security vestibule. An officer sits slumped back at a tall desk, dried blood trailing down from the hole between his eyes. One of the lockers on the wall behind him is open, the key still stuck in the lock. Scarlett looks down at the mahogany desk. Sitting on its surface are her corsair's hat, ECHO device, digistruct deck, and Greed, buckled into her leather holster, all laid out in a neat row. She chuckles and puts them all on.

It's half past midnight when Scarlett pushes open the front door to the soft gushing of the rain. She tugs at her collar, letting her skin breathe in the heat. She sticks her hand out from under the awning. Cool, scattered drops splatter onto her palm. She steps out into the road, her heart soaring. Maybe... maybe she hasn't lost her after all.

Budding firemelons gleam in the night by the side of the road, glowing a rich, bloody crimson. A fresh, woody scent permeates the air. Streetlights flicker, seeming to guide her to the abandoned restaurant.

Her breaths are quick and shallow as she turns off the main road into the alley between the restaurant and the pawnbroker's. Her fingertips trail along the rough, wet wood as she turns the corner. The blue glow of night reflects down the center of the back alley, all the way to the cross street. She stops in her tracks when she sees the shiny steel padlock installed on the back door of the diner.

“Figured you'd come hobbling down here eventually.”

Scarlett's chest swells with hope. She wheels around. There, leaning against the wall, bathed in the soft glow of Elpis, stands Nisha. She pushes off the wall and takes the stump of a cigarette out of her mouth, smoke billowing from her lips.

“I thought you kicked that habit,” Scarlett says, a playful tilt to her head.

Nisha chuckles and flicks it to the ground, grinding the butt under her heel. “I know, I should stop. Damn things will put me in an early grave.” A wry smirk spreads over her lips. Scarlett's eye tracks down to her vest. Around her heart, it's stained brown with days-old blood.

As Nisha slowly paces towards Scarlett, boots thudding against the stone, a glint at her right hip catches Scarlett's eye. Her hook, the bloody tip tucked into Nisha's belt. Nisha grabs it. A twisted grin settles on her face as she slides her closed left fist into the cuff. The orange glow of the streetlights bounces in the raindrops clinging to the metal.

Nisha stands toe-to-toe with Scarlett and raises her arm. Scarlett chuckles as the cold bend of her hook presses flat against the back of her neck. Scarlett raises her hand and tilts Nisha's hat back, casting her face in the soft blue glow of the night. Her fingertips caress Nisha's ashen cheek, her skin made of silken moonlight.

Scarlett's eye flicks down to her chest, where the firm pressure of Nisha's hand lays flat, where her heart once would've been thudding through her corset. Behind their milk-white veil, Nisha's amber eyes flicker in the midnight glow. Her hand trails down Scarlett's body, the pressure lessening until she rests her palm gently on the wound above her navel. Nisha tilts her head to the side and murmurs over the soft patter of rain. “Always knew a little bloodshed was the quickest way to your heart.”

Scarlett catches her knuckle under Nisha's chin and guides it up. “Typically I'd prefer watching you shed somebody _else's_ blood.”

A dark chuckle rattles in Nisha's throat. Elpis's gunmetal glow beams in her smile. The flat pressure on the back of Scarlett's neck builds, and she leans down, yielding herself to Nisha's pull. Their noses brush together, and Scarlett flounders for breath as Nisha's lips ghost against hers. Nisha's breath chills Scarlett's cheek as she whispers, “I think it got the point across, didn't it?”

She chuckles. “Depends on the point you were trying to make.”

Nisha presses into Scarlett, pushing her back into the brick wall. Scarlett closes her eyes, losing herself in Nisha's soft, cold lips. Teeth tug on Scarlett's bottom lip, teasing out a gasp. The hook rests on her shoulder as Nisha takes her hand out of the cuff, sliding it to Scarlett's waist. Her right hand moves to the back of Scarlett's head, her fingers tangling in thick locks.

Scarlett cups Nisha's cheek in her palm and deepens their embrace, aching to lose herself in Nisha's kiss for eternity. But all too soon, Nisha is pulling apart from her again, picking up her hook and holding it between them. Scarlett grins and slides her arm into the cuff, then secures the buckles.

Scarlett holds her hook aloft, admiring the glint of metal in the night. A whisper falls out of Nisha's mouth. “Any regrets, Red?”

A rich chuckle spills from Scarlett's lips. Regrets? What does she have to regret, when she's standing here, in Nisha's arms? “Wouldn't have wanted it to be anybody else.”

Nisha's eyes flicker from Scarlett's eye to her lips in an amused dance. “You are _twisted_.”

She flashes a teasing smile, brushing her knuckles over Nisha's cheek. “Why do you think I ended up so madly in love with _you_?”

A smile curls over Nisha's lips. Scarlett marvels at her, the only sound the steady patter of the rain. Her gaze flickers to the bloodstain on the front of Nisha's vest. Guilt washes over her face in a hot wave. Nisha quirks an eyebrow. “What's wrong, Red?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, I just...” She sighs, letting her hand trail down to the hole her dagger left in Nisha's chest. “I meant what I said back there. I'm sorry I did it. I'm sorry it ended the way it did.”

“I'm not,” Nisha says. Scarlett meets her with a curious look, and she shrugs. “Now I know what I do to you. What you're willing to do for me. That....” She licks her lips, her eyes flickering with a wicked playfulness. “...that _fury_ in your eyes, back on the train, when you drove the dagger into my heart... it made me remember why I fell for you in the first place. It made me remember why we were so _damn_ good together.”

Scarlett bites her bottom lip. She can't help but smile at that fire burning in Nisha's eyes. She aches to feel its warmth. “And you call _me_ twisted.”

Nisha lets out a snort and leans in for a kiss. A nagging thought at the back of Scarlett's head has her wondering if this one is just to get her to shut up.

“Besides,” Nisha murmurs as they pull apart, “that wasn't the end. What do you say we pick up where we left off? Make this planet quiver with fear at our names.”

Her fingers curl and her chest swells with pent-up energy. She's been aching to hear Nisha ask her that since the minute she saw her. The night is young, and she needs that spark deep inside Nisha to ignite the yearning within her soul. “Think I've got the perfect place to start.”

She peeks in through the front window of the liquor store. The shopkeeper is half asleep on his seat at his cashier's stand, the small TV glowing with Hunter Hellquist's broadcast – a segment about the Crimson Raiders, judging from the inset picture. Scarlett pushes the door open. The bell above jingles. She keeps her cybernetic eye on the shopkeeper. He lifts his chin at the chime of the bell, then lets it droop back down to his chest. Nisha steps in behind her, raising her hand to tilt down the brim of her hat, keeping her face hidden from the shopkeeper.

“Really, Red?” Nisha mutters, throwing a subtle glance back over her shoulder as they walk over to the rums. “_This_ is your great idea?”

Scarlett rolls her eye. “I would have suggested the sheriff's office, but it seems like you just couldn't contain yourself earlier, could you?” She rests her hook around Nisha's hip and gives her a demonstrative poke.

Nisha winces, resting her hand on the small of Scarlett's back. She leans in and hisses, “Need I remind you I was breaking your sorry ass _out_ of there?”

Shaking her head, Scarlett clicks her tongue. “I understand that, _but_, rule one of inciting hysteria is you don't kill _everyone_. You need to leave one witness alive.” She scoops up a handle of black spiced rum with her hook and guides Nisha over to the whiskeys.

“You and your flair for the dramatic.” Nisha chuckles and grabs a bottle of bourbon from the top shelf. “I've got half of Hyperion's army looking for me, I don't think we need to worry about witnesses.”

Scarlett nods. “Mmhmm. An army who thinks you're _dead_.”

Nisha quirks an eyebrow at Scarlett and gives her a flat stare. “But I _am_ dead.”

“Not—” Scarlett grumbles and rubs her forehead. It's reassuring at least to know the reanimation process didn't affect her sass. “Don't get smart, you know what I mean.”

With a soft chuckle, Nisha peels the plastic off the neck of the bottle and uncorks it. “Yeah. I think I do.”

She takes a drink from the bottle. Behind them, the shopkeeper clears his throat. “You planning on paying for that?”

Scarlett whips around, flashing a staged smile. The shopkeeper bolts upright in his seat. “Oh, I'm so sorry about her,” she says, walking over to the register. She thunks her rum on the oak counter, then fishes in her pocket for money. “She's been through a hell of a day; she's practically dead on her feet.”

She slaps down a few bills and meets the shopkeeper's gaunt, wide-eyed face. He stares back at her, not even registering the money on the counter. Nisha's boots thud on the tile behind her, and Scarlett swells with excitement as she feels her slender hand sliding onto her waist.

His hands slide down his legs, towards the counter, but freeze when Nisha draws Law. “Ah ah ah,” she says, shaking her head. “I wouldn't try that if I were you. You should see what I did to the last person who killed me.” She flicks Law's bayonet towards his hands. “On the counter. Nice and slow.”

Scarlett laughs, watching the man's face turn grayer and grayer. He lets out a slow breath and lays his hands flat on the counter, fingers spread. “Bloody hell, Nish, I think he's about to piss himself.”

Nisha clicks her tongue, watching his breathing grow faster and heavier. “Fuck's sake. You act like this is the first time you've been held up.”

His jaw clenches, and his eyes bulge. He gulps. “What do you want? You want money?”

Nisha lets out a bark of a laugh. “Does it look like I need money?” She unbuckles Scarlett's holster and takes Greed in her left hand, holding it a foot away from him, aiming at his mouth. “Nah. I want you to kiss the barrel of her gun.”

He stares down the barrel of Greed. His eyes flicker back up to Nisha. She shakes her head and elbows Scarlett. She gets the point clear enough. Scarlett lifts her left arm and presses the point of her hook to the back of his neck. She can feel him trembling through the minute vibrations through the metal. He starts to lean forward, and she keeps the pressure firm at the base of his skull.

“Good. Just a little further.” Nisha nudges her with her elbow, and Scarlett raises her good arm, taking Greed out of her hand. The shopkeeper takes deep, quick breaths through his nose as he stares down the barrel. Scarlett cocks the hammer, laughing at the terror in his dilated pupils.

He shuts his eyes with the barrel an inch away from his mouth. Nisha reaches her free hand out, grabs him by the hair, and smashes his face down into the counter. He lets out a grunt as he straightens up, blood already dripping down from his nostrils. His hands fly under the counter. Scarlett snaps her aim down and shoots him in the right elbow. His gun clatters to the ground as he staggers back into the wall, rattling the shelves of miniature bottles. Nisha raises Law, aiming high, and fires over his head. Their laughter rings through their errant shots as he rushes towards the exit. Scarlett shoots out the glass in front of him. He bulls straight through the fractured glass. The shattered pane clatters onto the ground as he sprints into the pouring rain, down the street, out of sight.

They take a moment to reload their revolvers, Nisha chuckling to herself all the while. Scarlett holsters Greed, picks her rum up off the counter, and takes a long drink. She steps up to the door and looks down the street. Her laughter cuts through the hissing downpour.

“What's so funny?” Nisha says, sipping from her whiskey.

“I've just realized,” she says, shaking her head. “You wiped out everyone in the sheriff's office. Who's he going to report this to?”

Nisha lets out a snort. “I guess whoever comes to investigate them.”

Scarlett nods. She's got no idea who that'll be – small potatoes for Hyperion, but maybe the Crimson Raiders will see it as an opportunity to ingratiate themselves with the fearful townsfolk. Either way, a settlement as small as Hallowed Hollow won't warrant a quick response. “Guess that gives us plenty of time to get to the next town.”

Nisha hums her approval. “Now you're talkin' my language.” They raise their bottles, clink the glass together, and each take a long drink before stashing them in their storage decks.

Scarlett and Nisha step through the broken door into the soft blue of the night. The spring night rain sweeps the scattered spurts of the shopkeeper's blood down the cobblestone street. Scarlett closes her eyes and turns her face up to the sky. Cool drops spatter onto her face and drip down her neck, where Nisha's ravenous lips kiss her skin, where her tongue runs over with longing.

She turns into Nisha, cupping her cheek in her palm, resting the tip of her hook on the small of her back. Nisha's hips press against hers. Her fingertip brushes over Scarlett's lips.

“Here's to us, Scarlett,” Nisha whispers. “May they find us at the end of the trail of dead. And if we go down... we'll go together.” She slides her hand into Scarlett's back pocket and flashes a devilish grin. “Kissing in a hail of bullets.”

As Nisha's fingers trail through her hair, a smile warms Scarlett. No, she has no regrets. None at all. “Here's to death, Nisha,” Scarlett says. “May it never stop us.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.”

— William Penn


End file.
